Adam Who?

Not enough.

That’s what I have; not enough. Although I’ve recieved a nice amount of sentences from you, there just aren’t enough of them for me to make a new story out of. I need more. More. More. More.

How do you like it? How do you like it?

In an effort to get you lazy bums off your collective rear ends and send me your wackiest sentence so I can write another stupid story for your entertainment, I’ve decided that I have no other choice but to threaten you. And so, without further pomp or circumstance, here he is; Bread.

“…”
“Well?! Don’t just stand there, say something!”
“No.”
“What?!”
“…”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“What? You think I give a flying frick about your stupid contest, numbnuts?”
“But… but you said you’d help me out!”
“And you said there’d be tacos. And unless my eye has another yeast infection, I don’t see no tacos. No tacos, no threats.”
“I’ll make them after you tell these people to write me a sentence!”
“And I’ll threaten these losers after I’ve eaten my damn tacos.”
“No tacos until you threaten them!”
“No threats until I get my tacos!”
“No tacos till threats!”
“No threats till tacos!”
“Threats first!”
“Tacos first!”
“Argh!”
“Grarg!”
“…”
“…”
“So, ah… I guess that shows you people who wears the pants around here. So get writing or Bread will… uh, chastise you… by, uh… eating all you tacos?”
“Ooo, you really showed them. I bet they’re all shaking in their little booties.”
“Shut up, Bread. You know, all you ever do is embarrass me in front of my friends.”
“Liar. You have no friends.”
“Sigh. I guess I’ll make you your tacos now.”
“Nevermind. Your tacos suck anyway, let’s order Chinese instead.”
“I hate you.”
“Right back at you, jackhole.”
“Somebody kill me.”
“Hey! That’s not too bad!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You still want me to threaten these guys?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I like that look in your eye…”
“Stop being such a wimp. You want those sentences or not?”
“I guess…”
“Fine. Here goes…”
“Hey! What are you going to do with that knife?”
“Hey losers! Send in your sentence by 10pm Monday or GeekMan dies.”
“Bread! This isn’t funny!”
“Bub, unless the next thing out of your mouth is ‘General Tso’s chicken’, you won’t last ’til Friday. Kapeesh?”
[whimper]